


Telling Tales

by phnelt



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: M/M, jaskier gets a magic lute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phnelt/pseuds/phnelt
Summary: Whatever Jaskier writes for his lute starts coming true.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 31
Kudos: 276
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Telling Tales

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mk_tortie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_tortie/gifts).



> Thanks to Severnaya for helping with some of the stanzas!

“I got this new lute, Geralt, do you like it?” Jaskier strummed a few chord progressions, really leaning into the harmonics. 

“Yes, yes, very nice,” Geralt said, clearly distracted as he ran a whetstone over his steel sword. 

Jaskier huffed. But, like all truly excellent musicians, he knew how to channel his emotions into his craft. 

_The witcher sat down_  
_To tend to his great swords_  
_An alghoul lunged right at him_  
_Throwing him through some boards_

Alright, so maybe Jaskier was still a little annoyed. He opened his mouth to give Geralt a piece of his mind but a monster burst from the edge of camp and came straight at him! Jaskier barely had a chance to clutch his lute before Geralt had swung his sword and cleaved -- clove? Cleaven? -- the thing in two. 

“Strange,” Geralt said, staring down at the pile of guts which were still steaming. “They normally live in swamps.” 

Jaskier was too busy trying to keep down his dinner to reply. 

*** 

They passed through a town ravaged by famine, a blight had killed the crop and the children were hungry. Jaskier hated these situations and he knew Geralt did too, hands tightening on Roach’s reins, nothing else to do with no monster to fight. 

Above the town on the hill was the lord’s house, and their destination for the evening. Jaskier to sing, Geralt to turn in a minor contract. 

As Jaskier looked at the man’s fine house and well-stocked table, he wished that the man would find it in his heart to show some generosity on the people below. Humming while tuning, he thought about how nice it would be if this feast was sent down. 

Suddenly, the lord stood, his chair scraping back from the table. “I have an announcement to make,” he boomed, letting the whole hall hear him. “Our bounty is great while the sufferings of our people are many. I decree that this meal shall be shared!” 

_That’s strange,_ Jaskier thought. 

*** 

Jaskier didn’t fully realise what was going on until they made it into a real town with a real inn and -- this was the crucial part -- a real bath. 

He had tried to make the argument that he should get first bath, but Geralt had just stared at him until Jaskier said, “No, you go first, I insist,” gesturing Geralt ahead of him 

This left him with nothing to do but sit in the corner, watching Geralt splash around, and try not to drool too audibly. 

He pulled out his lute to give himself something to do with his hands, other than the obvious. 

_Geralt rose from the bath_  
_Water rolled down his chest_  
_He plucked at my trousers_  
_And he said be my guest_

Jaskier could imagine it, except he didn’t have to imagine it. He heard a slopping sound and looked up to see Geralt standing before him, water sluicing down the hard planes of his chest and gathering into streams to run down into the creases of his hips and over -- Jaskier jerked his eyes up, mind twanging, like strings plucked too hard.. 

“Geralt?” He asked, his voice high. He cleared his throat. “Can I -- Can I help you?” 

“I heard what you were saying,” Geralt said, in his burly man growl. Curse his witcher hearing! “So, how about it?” Geralt asked, gesturing to himself and his rapidly hardening and totally delectable cock. 

Jaskier licked his lips and was about to lean forward just to lickone of those abs, when he realised. 

“Oh. Oh no.” 

*** 

“I don’t _feel_ enchanted,” Geralt protested as Jaskier hustled him back onto Roach. 

“Trust me, you’re enchanted.” Jaskier thought longingly of the soft bed he left behind in the inn, but needs must. They’d only left Yennefer a few days ago, west of here, and hopefully she wouldn’t have moved. 

“You could have just said no,” Geralt said, reproachfully. 

“You have no idea how much I absolutely do not want to say no and how much I absolutely have to.” Jaskier closed his eyes and took in a big breath through his nose. Yennefer had to fix this. 

“Hey,” Geralt said, in that soft, low voice he got sometimes. It was doing things to Jaskier. _Stop that,_ he thought, _you’re not allowed to get off on this._ Just because Geralt was all enchanted and at Jaskier’s mercy to do absolutely anything -- No. 

“You’re really worried about this, huh?” Geralt asked, like Jaskier wasn’t having a crisis right in front of him. 

“Yes,” Jaskier said, understatement of the age. 

“Then we’ll fix it,” Geralt said, mouth forming a firm line. 

*** 

Jaskier was perversely disappointed when Geralt didn’t proposition him again when they rolled out their bedrolls. 

Before he climbed in, Geralt said, “Did you hear that?” 

Jaskier paused, then shook his head. 

“Hm,” Geralt said. “I’ll take first watch.” 

“Okay,” Jaskier said, drifting off. 

*** 

Yennefer burst out laughing when Jaskier described the situation. 

“It is not _funny_ ,” Jaskier insisted, “It is ruining my art.” 

“Yes, that is very serious,” she nodded for a moment then started laughing again. 

“Can you fix this?” 

Yennefer must have taken pity on him and his crazy eyes because she put out her hand. “Hand over the lute.” 

“Hmm,” she said, eyes unfocused as she stared into the middle distance. 

“Where did you get this?” she asked. 

“It was a gift from a grateful listener in Vizima.” Geralt snorted. “People give me gifts all the time, I will have you know, Geralt.” Jaskier tried to maintain his dignity, which he recognised was difficult considering he had missed his chance to bathe and his doublet was feeling rather lived in. 

“Well, it’s definitely cursed,” Yennefer said, handing it back to him. 

Jaskier dropped it onto the ground. 

“Careful!” Yennefer cautioned. “We need it intact to purify it.” 

“And how do we do that?” Jaskier hoped the ritual wasn’t too horrible. 

“Fire,” Yennefer said with a gleam in her eye. When Jaskier recoiled her expression cracked and she quirked the side of her mouth. “Actually, we need to ask the one who cursed it. Curses are tricky things, no two are alike.” 

Geralt grunted. 

Jaskier felt a rising panic.”But how will we…” 

Yennefer shrug, a slight movement of her shoulders which still somehow clearly implied that she was done with this conversation. 

“We go back to where you got it,” Geralt said in heavy tones, then drained his tankard. 

*** 

As soon as they stepped outside, Geralt stiffened, staring into the distance. 

“Jaskier…” 

“Yes, Geralt?” 

“Did you, by chance, write a verse about us fighting hordes of the undead?” 

Jaskier thought back. “It’s...possible?” Geralt glared. Jaskier threw up his hands. “I can’t keep track of every idea I’ve ever had!” 

“I heard some movement on the road, but I ignored it since we were making good time. Looking at the assembled horde, I’d say it took a few days for them to travel here from their natural habitats.” 

A horrible shriek rent the air. Jaskier winced, trying not to cower. 

“What’s the plan?” 

“The plan is, you undo it, I try to stay alive.” He pulled his swords out. 

“Undo it?” 

“Write a new verse!” 

“Uh,” Jaskier said, and mustered his skills. 

_When the hordes advanced_  
_They suddenly got sleepy_  
_And went back to their homes_

They’d run into the group. Geralt was slashing with his swords and Yennefer had stepped out to throw some magic around. She was flinging necrophages into the air with the distinct appearance of someone who’d rather be in the pub. 

“Why are you stopping?” Geralt growled, twirling to face a Kikimore. 

“I can’t think of a good rhyme!” Jaskier wailed. 

“It doesn’t matter!” Yennefer yelled. Jaskier hadn’t seen her come out, but the screams of the undead must have caught her attention. 

“It does to me!” Jaskier cried, in some anguish. 

“Jaskier, I swear, if you don’t--” If I didn’t was unclear because Geralt’s attention fully went back to the fight. 

_The hordes turned around_  
_Shaking their putrid bones_  
_They stopped all their fighting_  
_and went back to their homes_

_That was weak,_ Jaskier thought, but no matter. It did the trick; like marionettes with their strings cut, the monsters disengaged and slunk out of the streets. 

Jaskier saw some heads poke out of windows and he gave a wave. “Should be clear now!” he called out, but wasn’t surprised when all the doors stayed closed. 

*** 

At the end they were sweaty and Geralt was disgusting, so they trooped back into the tavern. 

“Jaskier,” Yennefer said, and he tried to repress his instinctive swallow when she used his name. It wasn’t his fault that everything about her inspired terror in him but it didn’t really do to let on. “Did you summon that horde?” 

“Apparently?” Jaskier squeaked, then cleared his throat. “It was unintentional.” Oh no, he’d overcompensated and his voice had gone unnaturally low. 

“Then why don’t you just summon the one who cursed you? The power has clearly been inside you all along.” 

“Hmm,” Geralt said, and Jaskier translated that particular tone as ‘I am embarrassed that I didn’t think of that and yet somehow still annoyed.’ 

Jaskier winced. He couldn’t handle the combined derision of both Yennefer and Geralt, he’d implode. He deliberately kept his voice light and airy -- thank you Bard training -- and said, “Good idea, let’s try that.” 

_Out there is a brute_  
_Who dared to curse my lute_  
_They ran straight to meet me_  
_And that is the truth_

Nothing happened. 

Jaskier looked around, expecting someone to pop out and let his elbows drop onto the table when nothing did. Hang good posture, now was the time for a good sulk. 

“How long along did you sing about the monsters?” 

Jaskier thought back. “Two days ago? Maybe three?” It was before the bathtub incident. 

“Hm,” Geralt said pensively. “So the spell isn’t warping reality, just encouraging it.” 

“Sounds like you boys have some waiting to do,” Yennefer said brightly, rising gracefully from her seat. 

“You’re going then?” Geralt tilted his head back to look up at her. 

“That little display is going to bring too much attention to the town, attention I don’t want.” 

“Didn’t we meet after you entranced an entire town into debauchery?” 

Yennefer gave him a withering expression. 

“Right,” Jaskier said, avoiding eye contact. “Different situation.” 

*** 

Then it was the two of them. Geralt glared until Jaskier forked over the silver for a room. Jaskier decided to think of it as reasonable payment for Geralt’s services and not like another example of Jaskier having a hard time saying no to Geralt. 

What he didn’t consider is what sharing a room meant. 

Sharing a room meant sharing a bed. 

“Perhaps,” Jaskier said, eyes riveted to the bed, “I should get a second room?” 

Geralt gave him a look that was uncannily like the one Yennefer gave him. Maybe they’d taken classes at magic school. “With what money?” 

“Well, you have me there.” 

At least Jaskier had been saved from watching Geralt bathe again. Geralt had taken care of that while Jaskier was haggling over the price of the room, successfully arguing that saving the town from undead deserved a fee reduction. No one needed to know they’d only come because of Jaskier in the first place. 

Geralt crawled into the bed, groaning as his back cracked, and Jaskier swallowed before girding himself to follow. Jaskier had heard that groan in his own chest, and he was only human. 

Jaskier lay there, stock still, focusing on keeping his hands to himself but when tnohing happened he started to relax. 

Geralt must have noticed his change in breathing because he said, “Finally,” and then rolled on top of Jaskier, pinning him to the bed. 

Jaskier closed his eyes, feeling Geralt everywhere, heavy and solid with muscle, the heat of him burning Jaskier up. Geralt rolled his hips just a little and Jaskier felt like he was drowning. He wanted him to do it again, except maybe harder and with less clothes between them. 

Except. 

Geralt stilled. “What?” he asked. 

Jaskier opened his eyes and immediately met Geralt’s. Geralt must have been staring down at him the whole time. Jaskier bit his lip. 

“You’re cursed,” Jaskier said. 

Geralt considered it for a moment. “I don’t feel cursed.” 

“I sang for this, remember?” 

“Really?” Geralt sounded skeptical. 

“Well, not this, but before, when you were all,” Jaskier couldn’t help remembering it, Geralt, dripping and golden, “wet in the bath.” 

“Jaskier, that was ages ago.” 

“I know,” Jaskier said, miserable. 

Geralt propped himself up on his hands a little higher. Jaskier immediately missed the weight of him. “So that means we can’t…” 

Jaskier nodded. 

“Why?” 

Jaskier felt heat rise in his cheeks. Geralt was going to make him talk about this? “At the end of this, I need you not to hate me.” The words were too honest. They felt like they were scraped out of Jaskier’s throat like when he tried for a high note without warming up enough, but he didn’t know what else to say, he was worn down by being offered exactly what he wanted and knowing it was all a lie. He wanted Geralt to come to his bed, but more than anything he wanted Geralt to want him. 

Geralt sighed. “I suppose you won’t just take my word?” That Geralt wouldn’t hate him? That had to just be another sign that Geralt was cursed. The Geralt Jaskier knew would never accept being manipulated. 

Geralt sighed again, low and long enough to almost be a growl. “Fine,” Geralt said, and rolled away. 

Jaskier was left looking up at nothing. 

*** 

Luckily, they didn’t have long to wait. Jaskier was morosely picking at his breakfast when who else should walk into the tavern but his arch-enemy Valdo Marx. 

“I should have known!” Jaskier crowed. 

Valdo was looking around the tavern, confusion evident in his face. His stupid, smarmy face. 

Jaskier waved him over. When Valdo saw him, his expression switched from confusion to consternation, eyebrows pulling down in the middle. Jaskier liked that look on him, it made him look stupid. Outsides reflecting insides. 

When Valdo came over to the table and begrudgingly took a seat, Jaskier figured there wasn’t any time to waste. “So, you cursed me,” Jaskier observed. 

Valdo pushed up out of his chair and made to flee, but Geralt appeared behind him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Not so fast,” he growled. 

Jaskier tried to hold back a delighted shiver. He loved that tone on Geralt. 

Geralt tightened his hand. “You’re going to tell us how to break the curse.” 

*** 

“Wait, so all I have to do is tell the truth?” Apparently the lute was cursed to make his songs come true, but if he was already singing the truth, then the curse would have no effect and be broken. 

“Should be a challenge for you,” Valdo said, snide. 

Jaskier reared back. “Excuse me, I tell a truth that is above the mundane, a purer truth if you will --” 

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice was final. Jaskier clicked his jaw shut. 

Except, “It’s better than the drivel you put out,” he said quickly then mimed locking his mouth. 

“So, I’ll just go then,” Valdo said and tried to get up again. 

“Fine,” Geralt said, which Jaskier thought was woefully unfair. The man had tried to ruin his craft, a worse act than trying to murder him. “No more curses for you. And if this doesn’t work, I will know how to find you.” 

Jaskier would just have to take some cheer from the visible way Valdo paled and swallowed when Geralt threatened him. 

When Valdo stumbled out of the tavern, Geralt turned back to Jaskier. “Get on with it,” he said. 

“What?” 

Geralt looked at him pointedly. 

“You want me to sing about this?” Jaskier gestured, encompassing the early morning tavern, complete with the one drunk who hadn’t made it out from the night before, the bar wench who was carefully stepping over his prone body, and the general mundanity of the room. The light wasn’t even catching on motes from the sawdust getting kicked up. There could not be a less inspiring sight. 

“Fine.” Geralt said and dragged Jaskier out of the building. 

*** 

“Just narrate what I do.” Geralt had taken Jaskier down to the river bank and stomped around until a drowner came out of its hole, garbling its irritation, presumably at being woken. 

_They came from the sea_  
_With claws and gnashing teeth_  
_Surrounded dear Geralt_  
_But he bellowed with glee_

_While the first attacked_  
_Two others jumped on his back_  
_Geralt diced them with silver_  
_And took them to ask_

_Dashing through combat_  
_He felled all of his foes_  
_And pleased with the battle_  
_He took his repose_

As soon as he finished the last note, the lute burst into flame. With a manly yell, Jaskier flung the burning carcass of the instrument away from him. 

Geralt turned back to him with an eyebrow raised and Geralt rose and took a step towards him. The man was remarkably unscathed, not even a scratch on him. 

“Looks like it worked,” Jaskier said, backing away from the force in Geralt’s eyes. 

Geralt advanced. 

“Looks like it,” he agreed. 

“So I think we can all agree that in the end, no harm was done, so there’s no need for --” 

Geralt pressed a finger against his lips. 

“I don’t know about that.” 

“What do you mean?” Jaskier asked, lips buzzing against Geralt’s finger. 

“I didn’t get laid, which seems like some harm to me.” He smirked and Jaskier’s heart jumped. “It was very disappointing.” 

“You -- I mean --” Jaskier wasn’t sure what he was trying to say and the pressure of Geralt’s hand on his face was very distracting. Geralt had moved his finger, but now his hand was cupping Jaskier’s jaw. 

“You can make it up to me,” Geralt said, leaning in, and Jaskier had some truly inspired ideas on how to do just that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments for your writer  
> Or kudos a’plenty  
> Or kudos a’plenty oh oh


End file.
